


Unravelled

by Tabithian



Series: Light the Path [22]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 21:08:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4761056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithian/pseuds/Tabithian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They tell him he should be dead (again). That it's a miracle he survived, and they're all just so relieved he's all right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unravelled

**Author's Note:**

> sparkly-key asked for JayTim amnesia where Jason doesn't remember Tim, so. Yes. :D?

They tell him he should be dead (again). That it's a miracle he survived, and they're all just so relieved he's all right.

But Jason's not stupid, okay.

He sees the way Bruce pauses over his words, the mask that falls over his face that's worse than any he's ever worn as Batman. He sees the way Dick looks so fucking miserable, the smile that looks so wrong on his face that doesn't go anywhere near his eyes. The way Barbara sounds pissed – not like she's pissed at Jason, but kind of like yeah, she _is_ at the same time, if that makes if that makes any sense. 

Steph kind of looks like she wants to punch something, and Jason isn't avoiding her, okay.

Just. 

She hits _hard_ , and he'd rather not deal with that while he's trying to figure out what the hell is going on, thanks.

Cass... 

She just hangs back and watches him, waiting, which is kind of creepy and alarming, but.

_Cass._

And as for the demon brat - 

Jason had gotten used to the little shit being a bastard to him. All snotty arrogance and superiority layered over his insecurities, but now.

Now the kid just. 

Glares at him, like he's not worth expending energy past that.

And then there's Alfred, who treats Jason the same way he always has, bless him, but.

Jason's started to notice the way Alfred will hesitate when he turns to say something to Jason. Some Alfred-esque kind of joke at one of other others' expense. A pointed comment, and remembers at the last moment to censor himself about _something_.

They all do that, from time to time, when they're almost acting normal around him.

They'll be laughing or joking and turn to Jason like, _Right? You agree, don't you?_ and he can see realization hit them and all the good humor fucking vanishes. Gets replaced with this pained look, look away from him like maybe he won't notice if they do it fast enough, and Jason's so fucking sick of it.

********

“Who the hell are you?”

The kid freezes, turns around to look at Jason and holy shit, he looks terrible.

“Thanks,” the kid says, lips twisted up into something like a smile, if it didn't look like it hurts so much. “I appreciate it.”

Jason makes a face because okay, yes. He said that out loud, but in his defense, the kid really looks like shit.

“No really,” Jason says, moving closer to the Batcomputer the kid's camped out in front of. “Who the hell are you?”

The kid looks like he really wants to say something, Jason can see it on his face. But the kid just sighs instead, so damn tired.

“No one you need to worry about, I'll be out of here in a few minutes.”

And, see.

That might have worked, if Jason knew who this kid was. This kid who's made himself at home in the damn Batcave, scrolling through Bruce's files like hey, no big deal, everyone does this, right? I mean, really, who hasn't been down to the Batcave a time or two?

“Kid - “

The kid's face shuts down fast. Goes cold and hard. 

“Don't.”

“Excuse me?”

The kid finishes transferring whatever he was after onto a little tablet and tucks that away somewhere.

Looks at Jason for a long moment, and this time when he smiles - 

“I'm glad you're okay,” he says, and there's something. 

It's sad, but. 

Jesus, there's genuine relief there too, like this kid – who Jason doesn't fucking know at all – is so damn happy Jason's up and walking around and not back six feet under. (How the hell does he even know?)

“Who _are_ you?”

The kid cocks his head to the side. “Does it matter?”

“The hell does that even mean?” Jason demands, because really.

The kid laughs.

This small, broken thing.

“It. Never mind.”

“Master Jason?”

Jason turns to see Alfred coming down into the cave, pausing for the slightest of moments when his eyes land on the kid.

Surprise, and this aching kind of sadness on his face that makes Alfred look his years before he shoves it all back down, the proper British butler once more.

“Ah, young sir.”

The kid smiles again, and this one is less pained. (Fond.)

“Hey, Alfred.”

“How am I to impress the importance of a good game of chess with Master Damian if you are not here to set an example?”

The kid ducks his head. 

“I. Sorry, there were some things I needed to take care of.”

Alfred sniffs, pretends to brush a piece of lint from his his shoulder. 

Jason's eyes narrow when his hand shakes, just the slightest bit.

Alfred raises an eyebrow, and the kid - 

“I'm free next Wednesday?” the kid offers, hesitant, eyes going to Jason for the briefest of moments.

Alfred glances at Jason, looks back at the kid. “I believe I, too, am available then.”

********

“He knows Alfred.”

Roy scrubs a hand over his face and leans closer to the camera. “Jason, it's ass o'clock here. What do you want?”

Jason holds up his phone, for Roy to see. A picture of the kid he'd managed to grab while he was busy losing to Alfred at chess. Damian scowling and muttering in the background.

“This little shit,” Jason says.

Roy.

“Oh, fuck me.”

“How about never, Harper? Now who the hell is he?”

Roy laughs, so unbelievably done.

“You're an idiot, Jason,” he says. “Why don't you ask him?”

“Well, I would,” Jason says. “If the little shit didn't run out of the damn room whenever I walk into it.”

Not.

Not strictly true, exactly, because seven out of ten times the kid's just gone before Jason even realizes it. As in Jason will look to whoever else is in the room to make sure he's not imagining the kid, and when he looks back - 

Poof, gone.

Roy sighs. 

“Talk to him.”

“Harper, I swear to God - “

“No,” Roy says, sharp. “You tangle with things you shouldn't, you deal with it, Jason.”

Jason stares at Roy.

He's the only one, the only one, who's so much as mentioned what happened past that first night.

Jason running into some weird little magic user on patrol one night. Some kind of test Jason had failed, because of fucking course - 

“I don't remember what happened,” Jason says, hands curling into fists. “No one will fucking tell me.”

No, all Jason remembers is mouthing off at the wrong time, getting himself into trouble (again) and waking up in the Batcave, everyone looking like someone had died. (He would have thought it was him, but no, the breathing put an end to that line of thought.)

“Yeah, well,” Roy smiles, and it's like every one he gets from Dick and the others. Tired, helpless, _sad_. “There's a reason for that.”

********

He sees the kid around the manor once or twice, more and more down in the Batcave.

Everyone knows him, trusts him.

Bruce will hand cases to the kid to look over, both of them picking every little thing apart and forgetting to eat or drink or, hey, sleep. Dick will try to drag the kid into some stupid thing or other and the kid will protests, put up a good show before giving in, like it's a game between the two of them.

Barbara obviously likes him, and Steph and Cass steal him away all the damn time. Just show up and drag him off for who even knows what. 

Demon brat snaps and snarls at him, but it's clear his little black heart isn't really in it.

Alfred plays chess with him and is constantly working on him so the kid doesn't look like a strong wind will knock him over.

It's so damn obvious everyone's trying to get the little shit to stick around more, engage with them, and Jason still has no idea who he even is.

“I don't get you.”

The kid looks up from one of Bruce's cases, honest to God notebook open beside his laptop where he's taking notes.

“What's there to get?” 

Jason looks at him.

Alfred and Dick have been tag-teaming the kid lately. Alfred giving him his disappointed and disapproving looks to get the kid to eat, take a break here and there. Dick strong-arming him into movie nights and shoving all kinds of junk food on him.

He still looks tired as hell, drained, and he never quite looks Jason in the eye. Acts so damn nervous around him one minute, and the next like nothing's wrong, he's perfectly fine. (Under all of that is an air of exhaustion, resignation. _Sorrow_.)

“You'd think,” Jason says, leans forward. “That if everyone here knows you so damn well, I'd have at least heard of you.”

The kid smirks. Tired, bitter almost.

“You'd think.”

********

“What is it like, I wonder, to be missing a part of yourself and not even know it?”

Jason goes still, turns slowly to see that stupid little magic user facing him. He's wearing some kind of robe, a belt around his waist with pouches and delicate looking glass orbs tied to it that make soft chiming noises when he moves, soft glow emanating from them. 

“I've been looking for you,” Jason says.

He has a set amount of time before the others realize he's not back at the manor, before they come looking for him, but he needed some goddamn answers.

A smirk, the snake coiled around the magic user's neck hissing like laughter.

“Does it feel like missing an arm, a leg? Ah, but no. Surely you would have noticed something like that, would you not? No, this. This would be something entirely different than that. Worse, I should think.”

Jason fires off a round, inches from the little bastard's feet.

“How about you cut the bullshit and tell me what I want to know?”

The magic user's eyes flash red, lips parting to reveal sharp little fangs. 

“Are you sure you want to go about things like this? A heavy price was paid the last time our paths crossed, after all.”

Jason's starting to get that, yeah.

Or, no.

He got that feeling not long after he woke up in the Batcave feeling like death warmed over (he knows what he's talking about here, personal experience and all). Head throbbing in pain, and a feeling of loss that had faded, slipping through his fingers as he tried to hold on, to find out _why_.

The way the others won't tell him what happened, or cut themselves off sometimes, when they're talking to him. The look of sadness in their eyes when they look at Jason, at that damn _kid_.

“Hood!”

Jason looks up, sees - 

“Oh, my,” the magic user says, _purrs_. “Such a feeling of déjà vu, no?”

Jason's head snaps around at that, but the magic user's gone. Leaves behind an impression of his goddamn smirk, like he thinks he's the Cheshire Cat.

“Hood?”

Jason looks back, sees - 

“What the hell did you do?”

The kid – and there's no one else it could be in that damn suit – freezes.

“What?”

Jason closes the distance between them, grabs the kid by the stupid bandoliers and shakes him, hard. 

“What the hell did you _do_?”

The kid's face, or what he can see of it twists, goes sharp and angry.

“What I had to do,” he says, and breaks Jason's hold, drops to his feet light, graceful as Jason steps back in the face of the anger radiating off him. “And I'd do it again, you ungrateful bastard.”

Jason - 

“Go home, Jason,” the kid says, suddenly tired, looking so fucking small. “Go back to the manor. Just. Go home.”

Oh, and like Jason's going to do that now. 

Right.

Because.

Jason's not stupid, okay?

Everyone was just so damn happy Jason was alive, sure, but they acted like someone had died. And this kid, okay. This kid everyone knows and trusts and obviously loves, was pretty damn glad Jason wasn't dead too.

This kid, who's done everything he could to avoid Jason until Alfred called him on it.

Who looks like hell, even now – maybe especially now – and everyone worries over.

Jason bites the inside of his cheek, looks at the kid who still won't look at him, and.

Fuck it. 

Jason's always been an asshole.

He puts enough of that into his voice when he steps forward, into the kid's space, glares down at him.

“Do you even _know me_ , kid? I mean, really, who the hell do you think you are to be telling me what to do?”

The kid looks up at him, so damn angry. 

“God, this is. This is so damn typical of you, Jason! I can't believe you! You go off and pull something stupid, and the rest of us are the ones who have to deal with it!”

Jason stares down at the kid, waiting.

“You - “ The kid falters, voice cracking. “You can't keep doing this, acting like you're on your own when I - the others are there for you.”

Jason has a gift, really.

Fucks people over without trying.

“What did you do?”

The kid looks up at him and laughs, that broken little thing only Jason seems to get.

Jason can see Bruce and the rest of their happy little family closing in.

“I did what I had to do.”

********

And, see.

That might have been the end of it, only now.

Now Jason knows the kid has a suit, and Bruce hadn't restricted Jason's access to the Batcave while they kept an eye on him to make sure he wasn't compromised. 

Sure, he'd locked down the kid's files, encryption that was giving Jason goddamned headaches because all he could find on the kid was what was readily available to the public. And none of the others were willing to help, not that he expected them to.

Jason had his suspicions about the kid, had been trying to narrow things down further before he'd decided what the hell and broken out of Batjail to shake down the damn magic user.

So.

Jason goes looking, uses some of those detective skills Bruce had helped to sharpen way back when. Enters a few search inquiries and gets a hell of a lot of results.

Things that help form a picture Jason can't quite see just yet. Like a Polaroid developing.

Finds all kinds of hits about this little shit who popped up a few years back, making a splash in Europe and the rest of the world before setting up shop in Gotham.

For the most part. 

Punk's been seen with the Titans and the Outlaws, to name a few. (Fucking _Roy_ ).

Been seen working with Red Hood, here in Gotham, regular patrol buddies out keeping the streets safe.

“Red Robin?”

Dick sighs, and now that he's looking Jason can see how much of a toll this little clusterfuck has been taking on him.

He's the oldest of them, and he's the goddamn ray of sunshine that seriously annoys Jason sometimes.

“What did the little shit do?”

Dick opens his mouth - 

“If I hear any of you assholes tell me it's what he had to do, I won't be held responsible for my actions.”

Because that's a shitty answer, okay.

Dick shrugs, gives Jason a look and says, “What can I say? Tim's always been your kind of idiot.”

********

“What the fuck is wrong with these people?”

“I ask myself that every time I have to deal with a Bat,” Roy says, and smirks.

So damn annoying.

********

“I hear you deal in precious commodities.”

The magic user turns, _smiles_.

“I do, I do, that I do,” he says, sketches a little bow, the snake around his neck hissing in annoyance. “Now, is there something I could do for you?”

“Tell me what the little shit traded with you.”

To start with.

The magic user frowns, exchanges a look with that damn snake. 

“Oh, my, that would be wrong, would it not? There was a contract, was there not? Signed and sealed, all parties satisfied. I could not possibly - “

“ _I'm_ not satisfied,” Jason says. “Whatever he traded, I want it back.”

And oh, the look that flits over the magic user's face at that, hand going to one of the glass orbs at his waist that glows a deep, rich red, little flickers of brilliant gold like lightning.

“There was a contract - “

“I wasn't consulted,” Jason snaps. “He offered you something that wasn't his to give.”

This, Jason knows, from all the things no one said, all the silences and looks and _sadness_.

The way the little shit looks at him, when he thinks Jason isn't looking. 

“Oh, my, oh, my. Well, then. I could offer you a deal? A trade, if you will. His offering for one of yours? A contract will need to be written, read, signed. All parties satisfied.”

Jason snorts.

“No. Just give me back - “

“If you take it back, I will need to take something precious from you,” the magic user says, and he's no longer the weird little guy, now he's something dark, threatening.

“Like what?”

The magic user pretends to think about it, finger on his chin, and then he laughs, flicks a hand at Jason.

“Your life, I believe it was? You did fail my test.”

There's that, yeah, but.

“Yeah, see. That's kind of where you fucked up.”

Because, and this is something Jason doesn't tell anyone, his life isn't all that precious to him.

It's nice, being alive and all, but.

He's been dead before, that was a thing for a while.

It's the people in his life, no matter how damn aggravating they can be that are precious to him. The memories he's made with the people in his life, good and bad. He'd have regrets if he died – again – so much more now than in the past, but - 

“Did I?”

“You did.”

“Oh, this is so much more interesting than I was expecting.”

Jason's eyes narrow. “Does that mean you agree?”

“I will tell you this,” the magic user says, and holds up the red orb. “He traded something so very precious to him for your life.”

Yeah, Jason kind of figured.

Roy had done some digging for him, found out a little more about this guy. Or, guys like him. Tourists to this dimension, things people based demons on, maybe. Tricky fuckers who love to make deals, bargains in exchange for something precious.

A life for a life, that kind of thing. Memories, a little rarer and all the more valuable.

But.

There's a rigid. Not honor system, not for these guys, more like. A business code, maybe.

“He gave you something that wasn't his to give,” Jason says. “That has to violate the contract.”

Jason's a little sketchy on his business law, but thankfully guys like this are a little behind the times.

“It does, does it not?” the magic user says, thoughtful, eyes on Jason.

“And if I return his offering, you would be satisfied if I were take something precious from him?”

Jason raises his chin, smirks.

He's always been an asshole.

“The fuck would I care?” he asks. “I can't even remember the little shit.”

“I see, I see. And when you do? When you realize why you are precious to him?”

That's where the regrets come in.

And, really, Jason doesn't know why he's fighting so damn hard for this. To remember that little shit and the reason everyone's so goddamn sad, aching with it, just to die when he does.

God, he's so fucking stupid.

“Do we have a deal?”

The magic user laughs, delighted, and claps his hands.

“Yes, yes, a deal we have indeed.”

Jason watches him slip the red orb off his belt, held carefully in his hands as he hold it out to Jason.

“All you need to do - “

“Dammit, Jason!”

Jason swears, low and vicious and reaches for the stupid orb a split second too late as one of the kid's goddamned throwing discs shatters it, red smoke bursting out with a sound like thunder, brilliant gold lightning breaking free.

Tim swoops down on the other side of the magic user, eyes only for Jason, chest heaving like he's been running since the manor and hasn't stopped once.

“Why?”

Jason shakes his hands out, tips blackened from the tiny lightning bolts and glares at Tim

“You don't have the goddamn right to ask that, you little shit! Who the fuck goes around trading someone's memories of them away, huh? Answer me that, _Tim!_ ”

Tim rears back eyes wide behind his mask, and Jason - 

“Jason?”

Jason snarls, looks at the magic user sidelong as he stalks over to where Tim's standing. Earlier anger forgotten, giving way to confusion.

“Yeah, it's me, you little shit. Who the hell gave you the right?”

Because those memories, every single damn one of them about Tim and the place he has in Jason's life, the place Tim has carved out in it, settling into like a part of Jason, are _Jason's_ , not his. They're Jason's and the little shit gave them away, and Jason is so fucking angry about that.

That Tim could possibly think Jason would be okay with forgetting him, everything he means to Jason just to be alive. (That Jason would be fine with Tim suffering as long as he got to live.) 

There's a cackle behind him, soft hissing that sounds like laughter and a _pop_ of displaced air as the magic user disappears back to where he came from.

“I.”

Tim frowns, suddenly uncertain. 

“You.”

Jason's chest aches because he _remembers_.

He remembers what happened that night, failing that stupid fucker's test because he was supposed to, he knows now. Any answer he would have given would have had the same result, Tim offering up all of Jason's memories of him if the magic user would let him live, and Tim, the little shit - 

He hadn't even blinked.

“Christ, why are you so stupid?” Jason wonders, dragging Tim into a rough embrace, listening to him draw in breath like he can't get enough. 

“I did what I had to do,” Tim says, voice ragged, clutching on to Jason like he's afraid Jason's going to vanish on him. “I did what I had to do.”

********

Dick shows up at their place a few day later, confused look on his face as he holds out a picture frame.

“We found this when we went back to investigate the...site.”

The spot where Jason tracked the damn magic user down, made his deal. Where Dick and the others found them later, after the yelling, and swearing and arguing. Quiet apologies and wordless declarations of love, regret, devotion. (Barbara, Jason suspects, holding the others off for a littee while.)

Jason letting Tim know how not okay it was, what he did, how much Jason wouldn't want that – and Tim willfully ignoring him because he's a little shit.

Something that Jason knows and understands, as much as it breaks his heart that Tim doesn't _get it_. How damn important he is to Jason, but.

It looks like that's a thing they both have to learn, realize.

Jason frowns, takes the frame from him and - 

It's a certificate, cream vellum and gold foil lettering with a little seal in the shape of a gold star. A lovely little certificate for passing the magic user's little twisted test, a goddamn game for him. Seeing what the little humans valued most, what they were willing to sacrifice.

Jason laughs, hollow, and wonders what Tim's going to make of it when he gets back from the latest press conference for Wayne Enterprises.

“Looks like we passed,” Jason says.

Dick's looking at him.

“Shut up,” Jason says, tosses the damn thing on the coffee table. “You don't get to judge.”

Dick hold his hands up, placating, and the smile he gives Jason is.

There's a little touch of sadness to it, but it reaches his eyes.


End file.
